


No Man Alone

by Zanate56



Category: Tintin (Comics), Tintin - All Media Types
Genre: Character Study, Friendship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-10
Updated: 2015-12-25
Packaged: 2018-05-05 22:37:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,864
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5392838
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zanate56/pseuds/Zanate56
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A train delay leads to a quiet moment of reflection between Tintin and Haddock.  NON-SLASH.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I’m still alive! I apologise for the lack of updates, dear readers – real life has presented some challenges to me of late and I’ve been struggling to find the time to write, including overcoming a tremendous writer’s block. So here is some fluff between our favourite reporter and sea captain – I’m not completely satisfied with this drabble but decided to go ahead and post it regardless to help me get back into a writing groove. Stay tuned for more updates!
> 
> This fic takes place shortly after ‘Red Rackham’s Treasure’ but before ‘The Seven Crystal Balls’. There is also a reference to Ch. 4 of my fic, “Of Writers and Sailors” here.

_“…It is when two such persons discover one another…with what would seem to us amazing and elliptical speed, they share their vision - it is then that Friendship is born. And instantly they stand together in an immense solitude.” ~ C.S. Lewis, The Four Loves_

Their train had suffered engine problems and after nearly three hours of sitting on the tracks the conductor and chief engineer had informed all the passengers that they would have to spend the night at the nearest hotel before a new train would be along to take them back to London in the morning. In the meantime, the conductor explained with resigned tiredness, they would just have to walk the single mile to the hotel.

Said “hotel” turned out to be a miserable hovel of an inn with a roof that leaked and offered barely any warmth. It was November and an early cold snap, combined with heavy rain and wind, made the short walk to the inn miserable.

The best rooms had been given to the elderly and those with families, which left Haddock and Tintin with a small room barely the size of a ship’s cabin. There was a single bed, a nightstand, and precious little else. Tintin was suddenly glad that he had left Snowy, who was recovering from a sprained paw, with Mrs. Finch while he and Haddock had travelled to Wales for a story the boy was working on. The story had turned out to be a dead lead, but the two friends had enjoyed exploring the beautiful Welsh countryside and the ancient Celtic ruins that dotted the landscape.

It was just bad luck that their return trip had not been as pleasant, thought Tintin. The boy shivered and set his bag down as he pulled off his soaked jacket. He then sat down on a rickety chair and pulled off his shoes and socks.

“Do you think the rain will let up soon?” said Tintin.

Haddock snorted. “That storm’s going to last all afternoon and probably into the night as well,” said Haddock as he removed his hat and coat and hung them up to dry. He also pulled off his shoes and socks and stretched out on the narrow bed with a groan.

Tintin nodded, knowing that Haddock’s sailing days had left the older man with an uncanny sense of weather patterns. The boy set aside his sweater and plucked irritably at his damp undershirt but there was nothing to be done about it. It was too cold to remove it and he didn’t have a spare with him.

Suddenly feeling exhausted despite the short walk to the inn, Tintin lay down on the bed next to Haddock. The bed was so narrow that Haddock was forced to roll onto his side to accommodate Tintin despite the lad’s slight frame. For a while they lay in companionable silence, dozing and listening to the rain and thunder. If Haddock closed his eyes he could imagine that he was back out on the ocean instead of this miserable, cramped place.

After the room had darkened with the loss of the weak daylight Tintin spoke.

“This reminds me of when I got lost when I was still living at the monastery.”

Haddock had thought the boy asleep but turned to look at Tintin in surprise. 

“How’d you get lost?”

Tintin shrugged with a rueful smile. “Like any other little boy does, I suppose – I simply wondered off and when I looked up I had no idea where I was. I was terrified. And then it started to rain and I couldn’t find my way back to the monastery.

“I think I was six or seven at the time,” continued Tintin wistfully after a moment. “I finally found my way back because I could see the lanterns the brothers had lit to look for me when I hadn’t been seen at dinner.” 

“Were you punished?” Haddock asked curiously. He had no doubts that Tintin had been well looked-after in his childhood, but he was curious how a group of friars would have handled disciplining a young, precocious child like Tintin.

“Well, I think they were so relieved that I was safe that I got off easier than I should have. I was old enough to know better than to wonder off – the woods around the monastery are enormous. I was forbidden from leaving any of the brothers’ sight for a fortnight. And that was on top of scrubbing every pew in the rectory, twice over.”

Tintin grew silent as he remembered the brothers’ relieved faces and happy exclamations when they saw that Tintin wasn’t harmed and had simply gotten lost. Brother Joseph had held the shaking, sobbing boy close, murmuring soft assurances that Tintin was safe and that no, they weren’t angry with him.

_“Y-you’re not going to send me away?”_

_“Send you away? Of course not – why would you think such a thing?”_

_“B-b-because I’m an orphan and now you won’t want me. That’s why I was left as a baby – because no one w-wanted me…”_

_“Who said these things to you, Justin?”_

_“One of the boys from town.”_

_Joseph sighed and stroked the boy’s hair._

_“We will never send you away – you are our brother, our son, our family. I just thank God that you are safe.”_

Tintin sighed and then looked up when Haddock gave his shoulder a gentle nudge. 

“Why don’t you visit them, laddie? I can tell that you miss them.”

“Actually,” said Tintin, “I have been thinking about that. And I wanted to ask, well…would you want to come with me?”

“Me?” said Haddock, leaning back to look at Tintin’s expression. Seeing Tintin’s sincerity the sailor grinned.

“Of course, my boy. Wouldn’t miss it for anything.”

Tintin smiled and closed his eyes again, and soon his breathing evened into the deep, slow breaths of sleep. Haddock carefully reached over across Tintin and turned off the lamp before settling back onto the bed. He remained on his side, close enough to Tintin that their brows touched.

Haddock’s back was going to make him pay in the morning for the cramped position but for once he didn’t mind – Tintin’s body resting against his own, lax and trusting, eased the aching loneliness he had felt for so long. Sometimes Haddock recognized that same loneliness in Tintin when the boy unwittingly revealed how young he was.

Perhaps they were two lonely souls, Haddock thought, but they could be lonely together. With that last thought Haddock drifted into a rare, peaceful slumber, the warm presence of his young friend next to him a welcoming harbour.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Surprise! An early Christmas present to my readers – my muse decided that this should be a two-parter instead of a one-shot, so here we are! Not much adventure here, but there is plenty of character introspection and study. Enjoy all, and Merry Christmas!

The most common feeling Haddock was accustomed to upon waking in the morning was a pounding head and a dry mouth after too much whiskey the night before. For once, however, his head felt clear but for some reason his face was rather wet…

Haddock opened his eyes, blinking against the weak sunlight that filtered into the room. He glared irritably at the crack in the ceiling that was allowing rainwater to drip in a steady pattern directly onto his brow. Haddock groaned and wiped at his face and then stopped when he felt something brush against his right arm. He looked down and saw that Tintin was pressed close to his side, his face resting against Haddock’s arm. The boy must have moved closer in his sleep during the night, instinctively drawn to the warmth of the older man’s frame. Haddock frowned and fought off a shiver when he noticed how cold the room still was. 

The sooner they could leave this place the better, he thought. His growling stomach suddenly reminded Haddock that they had both been too tired to find some dinner last night and he craned his neck to look at the dusty, cracked clock on the wall. It was half past seven, he noted with some surprise. He himself wasn’t an early riser unless duty required it, but Tintin was and he was a bit surprised that the lad hadn’t woken before him.

Haddock carefully slid off of the bed, not wanting to wake Tintin. It was rare for the boy sleep so deeply and he found himself oddly reluctant to disrupt the boy’s peaceful expression. When Tintin shivered again Haddock took his now dry coat and carefully draped it over the boy. He watched as Tintin made a soft noise and rolled over, pressing his face into the thick wool. With his auburn hair mussed and his clothes unkempt and rumpled from their journey Tintin looked very young. Sometimes Haddock forgot just how young his friend was compared to him. He had nearly had an apoplexy when he had learned that Tintin had been barely sixteen when they had first met aboard the Karaboudjan. Haddock himself hadn’t gone to sea until he was eighteen and was still considered young when he had earned the rank of master seaman at twenty-eight.

Haddock sighed and rubbed the back of his neck as he watched Tintin sleep. He had known the boy for less than a year and yet already considered Tintin as dear a friend to him as Chester, and perhaps more. It was disconcerting how protective he felt of Tintin even though he knew the boy was more than capable of taking care of himself. He was nearing forty and still wasn’t sure what the boy saw in him that made him seek out Haddock’s company, and Haddock Tintin’s. But Haddock did know, as surely as he knew every current of every ocean, that he was a better man for knowing Tintin.

His stomach growled again and Haddock shook his head, reminded of his previous goal of locating some food. He left Tintin to sleep and headed downstairs. The innkeeper, poor man, was eighty if he was a day and deafer than Calculus. After repeating himself five times to the innkeeper Haddock gave up and decided that if he couldn’t enjoy a hot breakfast, an early pipe would do. Plus it would help distract him from his empty stomach.

Once outside Haddock stretched and popped his back with a groan. The thin, hard mattress had done him no favours and he suspected that was the reason Tintin was still sleeping. He had probably gotten as much sleep as Haddock had, tossing and turning all night as he tried to find a comfortable position.

The rain had finally stopped but the clouds still lingered as Haddock took a deep breath of the cold, fresh air, feeling more awake by the minute. There were a few other early risers out and about, clearly also disgruntled about there being no breakfast and keeping an eye out for the train that was due soon.

Haddock stuck his pipe in his mouth and then cursed when a search of his pockets revealed that he had no matches. He must have left them in his coat pocket, which was still with Tintin. He paused, wondering if he could retrieve them without waking Tintin. Then one of the men who was also enjoying a pipe came up and offered Haddock a match.

“Thank you,” said Haddock after he had lit his pipe and had drawn in a deep puff. 

The man nodded and it took Haddock a moment to realise that it was the train conductor from yesterday. They stood in silence for a time, smoking their pipes before the conductor spoke.

“I say, where’s your son?”

Haddock took his pipe out of his mouth and stared at the other man in confusion. “Beg pardon?”

“Your son, wasn’t he with you? I wanted to thank him for helping me with my bag last night. My left arm isn’t what it used to be after an accident some years ago.”

“Oh, ah – you mean Tintin,” said Haddock. “He’s not my son, just a friend.”

The conductor raised his bushy grey brows. “Really? You seem so close, I just assumed…well, never mind. I apologise for any offense,” he added.

“None taken,” said Haddock with a shrug. “Any word on when that train’s due?”

The conductor scowled as he tapped out his now empty pipe against the heel of his boot.

“It should be here within the hour – hopefully the station master hasn’t mixed up the schedules again. In fact,” said the conductor, pulling out his pocket watch. “I should go check with the local station – make sure those men haven’t fallen asleep at their jobs again. Good day, sir.”

After the man had left Haddock stayed outside while he finished his own pipe, thinking back on the conductor’s words. He truly wasn’t offended, but he was still curious as to why anyone would mistake him and Tintin for father and son, no matter that he was twenty years older than the boy. For one, they didn’t look anything alike. And more often than not Tintin was the more mature one of them! At least that’s what everyone said. It had always irked Haddock that complete strangers would make judgements about their friendship. 

“Good morning, Captain.”

Haddock jumped and turned around to see Tintin coming towards him. The boy had Haddock’s coat draped over his arm and held it out to him with a shy smile. Haddock took the coat and shrugged back into it.

“Sleep well?” he asked with a raised brow.

Tintin grimaced and rubbed his back. “I do hope the seats on our train are more comfortable than that bed.”

Haddock suddenly heard a train whistle and grinned. “Well, we’ll soon find out.”

One hour later they were aboard the train and heading back towards London, finish off the remains of a hot meal and cups of tea provided by the stewardess. After they finished there meal they sat in companionable silence for a time. Tintin seemed wistful and almost a bit sad. Haddock was just about to ask the boy what was wrong when Tintin spoke.

“You know, I always wondered…”

“Wondered what, laddie?”

“Why I wasn’t wanted,” said Tintin in a soft, wistful tone.

Haddock knew what Tintin was referring to – the boy had never learned who had left him at the monastery where he had been raised. 

The older man felt his heart wrench as he struggled to find something to say. All he could think of was how grateful he was to the Belgian monks who had found Tintin, probably saving his life in the process. Tintin could have easily died from exposure had Brother Joseph not found the infant and Haddock was looking forward to thanking the man in person.

“Yes…ah, well, that’s their loss, whoever it was that left you,” he said, not looking at Tintin as he fiddled with his pipe.

Tintin stared at him for a moment, surprise colouring his face. Haddock glanced up, wondering if he had overstepped, but was reassured when Tintin gave him another shy smile that never failed to send a rush of fierce affection rushing through Haddock.

They didn’t say anymore after that, and when Tintin’s head nodded for the third time and then jerked back up Haddock tugged on the boy’s shoulder, pressing him to lie down. Tintin resisted for a moment before sighing and stretching out on the seat, resting his head in Haddock’s lap.

Haddock patted the boy’s shoulder before letting his hand linger there. “Get some more sleep, lad. We won’t be home for a while yet.”

Tintin smiled, wondering at how a man who had such a colourful vocabulary could sometimes express so much more with a simple gesture. He still wondered what it was about Haddock that made Tintin want to tell the sailor things that he hadn’t told anyone else, not even Chang. Aside from Brother Joseph and the other friars Tintin did not have many people he could truly confide in. 

But moments like these, when it was just the two of them and they weren’t off on another adventure, made Tintin feel…safe. And it wasn’t just physical safety, Tintin realised – it was the security of knowing that he could tell Haddock things without worrying about being judged or mocked. Perhaps it was so easy to talk to Haddock because Tintin had seen the older man at his lowest. Haddock was far from perfect but he was a good man and Tintin found himself missing his company whenever their separate lives called them away. Letters and telegrams were fine, but it wasn’t the same as sitting in the study at Marlinspike, listening to one of Haddock’s sea stories or walking the grounds of the newly acquired hall. Tintin drifted back to sleep, comforted by the gentle weight of Haddock’s rough hand, which was now slowly stroking his arm.

Once he was certain Tintin was asleep Haddock carefully propped his legs up on the seat across from him so as not to wake his friend. He then leaned his head back and closed his eyes, pulling the brim of his hat down low to shield his face from the sunlight that was starting to finally break through the clouds.

Whoever had left Tintin as an infant had turned their loss into his gain, Haddock thought with a smile.


End file.
